


The necessary misadventure of Adam Raki

by Little_RedHots_Riding_Hood



Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: Adam is lost, Adam saves Nigel, Confused Adam, Darko is not amused, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hannibal Extended Universe, Jealous Nigel (Charlie Countryman), M/M, NIgel likes Adam before he loves him, Protective Nigel (Charlie Countryman), Slight Misunderstandings, Slow Burn, but rest assured, except he is, he WILL love Adam, set during Charlie Countryman, set in Bucharest, that crazy murderous love we all love him for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2018-12-26 18:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12064671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_RedHots_Riding_Hood/pseuds/Little_RedHots_Riding_Hood
Summary: Things had not gone to plan for Adam Raki. He’d left New York to start his new job at the observatory in California, where he was supposed to begin a new chapter in his life and live happily ever after in his own little space-filled bubble… but now he was in Bucharest. Romania. That was nowhere near California. It was all because of New York traffic – it had made Harlan late, which had left him scrambling at the airport because he was going to miss his flight. The man at the front had given him false directions, leaving him at the wrong gate – and the woman at the counter had let him in. If that wasn’t a job misdemeanor, then he did not know what was. And if that wasn’t worse, all of his money was in California; it would take a week for him to get the permission and funds and a flight to get back to America, according to the airport officials in Bucharest.Or: Shortly after leaving New York, Adam finds himself in Bucharest, Romania on accident. Events of Charlie Countryman, but with our favorite cinnamon roll slowly leading our favorite piece of slightly burnt toast away from the path of destruction.





	1. You've now landed in Bucharest

**Author's Note:**

> I know this has been done before, but I think that my version is just different enough to be something new, hope you enjoy either way! (Also, I tried my best to keep the characters IN character, but I might have taken a few liberties... sue me)

Things had not gone to plan for Adam Raki. He’d left New York to start his new job at the observatory in California, where he was supposed to begin a new chapter in his life and live happily ever after in his own little space-filled bubble… but now he was in Bucharest. _Romania._ That was nowhere _near_ California. It was all because of New York traffic – it had made Harlan late, which had left him scrambling at the airport because he was going to miss his flight. The man at the front had given him false directions, leaving him at the wrong gate – and the woman at the counter had _let him in_. If that wasn’t a job misdemeanor, then he did not know what was. And if that wasn’t worse, all of his money was in California; it would take a week for him to get the permission and funds and a flight to get back to America, according to the airport officials in Bucharest.

But he apparently still had some luck – a guardian angel, as Harlan would say – because he had met the nice red-haired lady. He couldn’t remember her name, because she spoke so quickly, with such a thick accent. He attributed it to the fact that she was still crying while she put him in a taxi, handed him a note to give to an angry, pain-faced looking man, and directed the driver to some destination in Romanian. He thinks she was crying because her father had died on his flight, he’d seen the man sitting two rows behind him with a crazy-haired young man. He’d also seen the crazy-haired man comforting the red-haired lady.

When the driver had stopped and directed him to get out, he was left standing in front of an opera house, his few bags sitting beside him. The man that he was to give the note to really was pain-faced and angry, but Adam had no idea what he had done wrong to garner that level of anger nor what part of the man was hurting – he supposed that the man was irritated that he had interrupted a rehearsal, thus interrupting the man’s schedule; Adam didn’t like when his routine was interrupted either. But he did seem to lose a bit of anger when Adam had apologized for interrupting and told him that the music sounded lovely, because compliments make people happy – well, the _right_ compliments. He was directed to a balcony with soft, velvety cushions and it was here that the jet-lag caught up to him and he fell asleep.

When he woke up, it was to the warbles of opera singers, echoed by a downright furious orchestra. Adam might not have been adept at reading the emotions of others, but music was something he could connect to. But only with instruments, lyrics often held metaphors which he couldn’t understand and that quickly drained any enjoyment from the experience. He could almost ignore the singers in this piece though, as the orchestra really did capture all of the moment.

He opened his eyes to watch the musicians, but immediately found himself looking at the crazy-haired man, who was, if Adam was reading this correctly, staring down into the pit rather _intensely…_ He followed his line of sight and realized that it landed on the nice red-haired lady. He really should find out what her name was – his father had often told him that it was rude not to know someone’s name once you’ve met them. But he didn’t dare interrupt the crazy-haired man’s enjoyment of this opera; he could wait until it was over. Instead, he just closed his eyes and let himself be lost to the music. He had the passing thought that his cousin, Will, would enjoy this with his fiancé, who was apparently very fond of the arts.

They were going to be married in a few months and Adam was invited to stay at their home with them when he traveled from California to attend. Will spoke a great deal about his boyfriend-now-fiancé over the phone, and from what Adam had been informed, Hannibal was a wonderful man. He took care of Will and kept his night terrors away and made sure that Will was happy, and that was all Adam needed to know to approve of the man, despite his… _eccentric_ hobbies. But who was Adam to judge the man? Besides, Will had assured Adam that he would be allowed to keep his schedule and that Hannibal would not only allow him his macaroni and cheese, but that he had also offered to cook Adam _homemade_ cheesy pasta.

Unfortunately, once the opera had played its final scene, his opportunity to ask the crazy-haired man for either his own name or the red-haired lady’s was so short it might’ve been nonexistent, as the man was off like a shot as soon as the curtain had fallen. So he just gathered his luggage and waited for the mass of opera spectators to drain out the main doors, then he went to look for the red-haired lady himself. He assumed she would be down in the musician’s rooms where he had been sent before, so that was where he looked first.

He was so absorbed in trying to remember the route down to said halls that he didn’t see the man walking his way until it was too late. His luggage was sent to the floor, and Adam immediately followed.

He could only sit there for a moment in stunned silence before he was hit by an angry “Watch where the fuck you're going!”

And when he glanced up (and up) he was met by the furious gaze of the singular most attractive and indescribably intimidating man he’d ever seen in his life. Adam was usually outside of realizing gestures of aggression, but this man didn’t need gestures; his form itself suggested natural dominance being tall and broad and rigid. And angry. His words suggested a great deal of agitation; it was probably best that Adam not engage this man. But he was lost and he needed to find the red-haired lady.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m just looking for the musician’s rooms. I want to tell them that they did a good job. E-especially the nice red-haired lady, although I don’t think that that is her natural hair color.”

“Oh?”

A raised eyebrow, usually indicating interest in the topic at hand; Adam chose to explain, “The chances of having such a brightly colored shade of red as her natural hair color are equivalent to those of someone without albinism having red eyes; possible, but nearly nonexistent.”

At this the man raised both eyebrows, Adam would know because they were his point of focus, rather than the eyes themselves. Unfortunately, he was forced to make eye contact as the man gripped his chin and pulled it down before letting go just as quickly. His mind stalled for a moment at the unprepared for touch paired with the sudden eye contact before it immediately locked in on the man’s eyes. Red eyes.

“Amazing – the gene shouldn’t be there, but there it is. I’ll have to ask the red-haired lady if hers really is natural, too.”

“About that,” the man took a step closer, “Why exactly are you looking for Gabi, huh?”

“Gabi? Is that her name? She was the one playing cello, and I think the only lady with red hair… I want to thank her for helping me earlier and to tell her that her playing was very good; I could feel the emotion, which can be very hard at times, so that means that it really was good. My father said that sometimes people give compliments when they don’t really mean it, which confu-“

A sudden harsh grip on his collar cut him off. The man’s form said anger; Adam must’ve been talking too much, but the aggression was scaring him.

“Are you telling me you’ve got designs on _my_ Gabi, you little cocksucker?”

_Anger,_ definitely anger. Anger paired with physical contact usually meant violence and pain for Adam; he had to pacify this man somehow, but he didn’t know how, “I-I don’t understand what you mean, but I-I’ve never performed or-oral sex in my life. P-please – I-I don’t like physical contact, I–”

“Too fucking _bad!_ Do you want to _fuck_ her?!”

“N-no, I don’t feel any sexual attraction to Miss Gabi,” a tensed grip and he rushed to continue this topic in his panic, “B-before I left, Harlan said that maybe I shouldn’t date any more women for a wh-while, so maybe he meant I-I should t-try dating men. He w-wasn’t very clear, so I-I don’t–“

The man laughed, but wasn’t laughter supposed to mean amusement? It didn’t match the situation and Adam could feel an overload creeping closer. He was scared. He wanted to be away from this situation. He wanted to be home with his macaroni and cheese and watching _The Artist’s Studio_ and away from this scary man. But he didn't have a home. Not anymore. He sold it to someone else who would be living there now and ruining his safe space and- and he couldn't think about this now. He had to stay calm, but it was so _hard._ He could feel tears prick at his eyes as the man shook him like a naughty puppy.

“Are you _fucking serious_?! Another one? What, are you that faggot Charlie’s fucking bitch?! Do you play tuba as well?”

“No, I-I play piano, but who’s Ch-Charlie?”

The man didn’t reply, instead Adam watched as he pulled his fist back in preparation to deliver it somewhere on Adam’s body. Adam had no idea what he had said or done to make this man so angry, but when did he ever understand? He must have missed _some_ cue recognizable to an NT… He closed his eyes and tried to brace himself for the pain…

_“Nigel!”_


	2. You don't hurt the people you love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Adam properly(?) meets Gabi and Nigel.

The pain never came and Adam was incredibly grateful to the somewhat familiar voice for stopping the angry man; he bruised terribly and never dealt with the pain well. He opened one eye and found himself looking at the nice red-haired lady, who was holding the scary man’s arm back.

He couldn’t help but whimper, “M-Miss Gabi, help…”

She would explain, she knew he had some form of autism, maybe not which, but she had recognized it at the airport.

“It’s okay Adam. Nigel let him go, _now.”_

The scary man – _Nigel_ – let him go.

“Are you okay Adam?”

She moved closer, reaching to settle a hand on his shoulder, but he was still too anxious, too _raw_ for touch and he flinched away, going so far as to curl inwards and take several steps back from both her and Nigel, “N-no touching, _¬p-please_.”

“Okay, it’s okay Adam. No touching, I promise.”

But it wasn’t okay, the scary man, Nigel, was still glaring at him from behind her. He needed to appease him somehow.

“I-I didn’t, I-I’m not sexually attracted to you, Miss Gabi, no-nor whoever Charlie is, I-I don’t play tuba – and-and I haven’t played piano in two years,” he said anything, _everything_ he could to try to make the man less angry and not hurt him. He was crying; he could feel the hot, salty tears streaming down his face. They blurred his vision of Miss Gabi and Mr. Nigel.

A distant, removed part of him noted how quickly his overload had hit him, and supposed that it was natural considering his circumstances. His life had already been subjected to such change: his father’s death, then Beth, then getting fired from the job his father had gotten for him all because he couldn’t understand what others wanted, then Beth’s lie, then no Beth for a short time, then the job acceptance, then Beth again, then no Beth, then going to California but then it wasn’t California it was an entire hemisphere away in Bucharest, then he couldn’t get back, he had nowhere to stay, then the nice Miss Gabi, then this man who was so very _angry_ that even _Adam_ could see it.

It was far too much for his mind to handle – an entire lifetime of unwanted change in a span of months, and Adam finally began to collapse. He was scared and regressing back to his earlier days of blind responses with only the hope that they would be enough and yet he was still somehow seeing that Mr. Nigel was angry– and everything was too much– and he was scared– and– and...

He just wanted somewhere quiet and dark. Safe. But that place was gone... all gone...

He hadn’t realized that he had clamped his hands over his ears until he heard a soft, muffled voice pleading with him to calm down. But he couldn’t; didn’t they know that? He was trying to keep himself together, he really was. His father had always been there or called when Adam made a scene; over the years Adam had grown to recognize the emotion of embarrassment. His father had loved him, Adam knew, but there were times that the man had had no _idea_ how to deal with his Asperger’s…

He hadn’t realized that he had closed his eyes either, until there was a shadow over them making the darkness behind his lids even darker. He opened them a crack and – _oh,_ he’d curled himself into a little ball in a corner of the hall. He hadn’t done that in a long time. He was glad that his father wasn’t here to reprimand him for it, much as he also yearned for the man’s solid presence. Miss Gabi was standing in front of him. Adam didn’t think she would be enough to bring him back, to keep him steady. She might have known that he had autism, but was clearly far out of her depth when it came to actually _dealing_ with him. Like Harlan sometimes.

“Adam?”

“I-I want to go home now, please.”

He’d said please, he was being polite and courteous so close after this near-attack; surely that must count for something? Adam was being good, couldn’t he go home now? Or... Or at least be allowed his routine? It must have been close to dinner time by now...

“No, Adam, I’m sorry, but you remember what the man at the airport had said. It will take them some time before they sort everything out. And then you can go home, okay?”

He could only manage a little sniffle and a nod.

“But until then, you're going to stay with me, okay? I promise I’ll try to make this as easy for you as possible.”

He didn’t get a chance to nod this time, before Nigel made his presence known once more, “Are you _fucking_ kidding me, Gabi?! This little sniveling, fucking cunt in your house?! Why not send him off to stay with his fucking fag boyfriend _Charlie,_ huh?!"

“I don’t kn-know who Charlie is, but we are not dating.”

Adam was ignored.

“Yes in my house! It is mine to do with and I am free to allow whoever I wish to stay there! You know what the Marco Polo Hostel is like; you get half of your newest customers from there! Charlie can take care of himself, but they would eat Adam _alive!”_

They were yelling. Adam hated yelling, because that meant anger and sometimes violence, too. And– _wait…_

“They are going to _eat_ me?!”

That got both of their attention. Gabi rushed to soothe him as she saw his tears pick up the pace once more, “No, Adam, not literally. They won’t actually eat you–“

“Oh, no, _Adam,”_ Nigel interrupted her, sneering, “They’ll just get you drunk and drugged, steal what little you have, maybe rape you. And you’ll be too fucking high to notice any of it. So, basically the same thing.”

_Slap._

Utter silence.

Was it finally over? Adam could only hope so. But Mr. Nigel seemed too aggressive and dominant to be cowed like a dog after being flicked on the nose. He was worried for Miss Gabi, as she was closer to the man than Adam was, but she didn’t show any fear for her own wellbeing whatsoever, she actually seemed to hold onto, if not _strengthen_ her glare. But why was she angry? Nigel hadn’t insulted her, not that Adam would have really recognized any slight but outright blaspheming, nor had he made any aggressive movements, again, not ones that _Adam_ had seen.

So _why_ did Miss Gabi hit Mr. Nigel? Adam didn’t like violence, it was almost as bad as lying, and unprovoked violence was as bad. And even though it probably didn’t have enough force to bruise, there did lie a bright red mark on Mr. Nigel’s face, which was twisted and pained as if it really would bruise and scar forever. Adam would have said that Mr. Nigel was overreacting, not unlike a child whose hand had just been given a light, reprimanding slap, but it looked to be more emotional than physical. If he were to hazard a guess, Adam would have supposed that the emotion was something along the lines of betrayal. And for a rare moment, Adam could… _sympathize_ with Mr. Nigel.

Adam had been betrayed as well by someone he thought he could trust; even though he had accepted her lie later, at the time he could not have imagined a worse hurt than discovering that Beth had _lied_ to him. He was violent too, then, he remembered, but not towards Beth. He would have never hurt Beth, though; hurting someone you love was worse than anything ever. Did Mr. Nigel think the same thing? He probably shouldn’t ask right now; Mr. Nigel probably wouldn’t like that. People didn’t like it when you asked them personal questions, especially people you’ve just met, especially when they are hurt. Adam thought that it was not unlike the raccoons at Central Park, they don’t like new people and they don’t like being bothered when hurt. Adam had learned both the hard way.

But he should probably say something; the tension was clouding so thickly that _he_ could feel it.

But he could make it worse…

But he didn’t like the tension.

He would just say something and get it over with rather than keep thinking about it.

But he would be quiet about it, non-invasive, “You should say s-sorry to Mr. Nigel, M-miss Gabi. Th-that was mean.”

More silence.

And more.

And more.

But they were both staring at Adam now, and he quickly regretted opening his mouth.

It was Gabi that spoke next, “What?”

Adam thought that he had spoken loudly enough in the silence, maybe not, “You should apologize to Mr. Nigel for hitting him. It’s not nice.”

“ _HE’s_ not nice, Adam. He was practically terrorizing you and you want me to apologize for defending you?!”

She was raising her voice at him now; Adam lamented at the thought that he could irritate even nice Miss Gabi into anger at him. But he couldn’t let this go, “But he didn’t hurt me, he was explaining what would happen to me if I went to that place, even if he doesn’t seem to know what cannibalism truly is, as rape and theft do not equate to the consumption of the flesh of one’s own species. Hitting him was unnecessary and mean, especially if you have some sort of relationship with him as all indications suggest that you do. You don’t hit people, Miss Gabi, it’s not nice.”

Even Adam understood this, so why didn’t she? Was this just his mind-blindness? Perhaps he really should ask Mr. Nigel? The man had remained silent and still as stone throughout all of this, “Right, Mr. Nigel? You don’t hurt people you care about, ever. That’s the worst thing anyone can do, even worse than lying and killing.”

That got the man’s attention as something in his eyes sparked slightly, “Yes it fucking is, kid. But why is it worse than murder?”

He had actually given a great deal of thought about this after Will had told him what his fiancé did in his free time and how they loved each other regardless. “Because liars and killers can still be worth loving, but you don’t want to love someone who hurts you. And you can’t love someone if you want to hurt them.”

Silence…

“You can keep him, Gabi. But just for a few fucking nights, got it? And don’t forget about our date, darling, we really do need to catch up.”

And with that Mr. Nigel was walking away, lighting up a cigarette out the door.

Adam was really starting to dislike the tense silences, “Are-are we going to your home, now, Miss Gabi?”

“… Yes Adam. Come on.”


	3. Getting to know you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blowfish.

Miss Gabi’s home was nice, big and spacious, much bigger than Adams apartment, or Beth’s. It was closer to the size of the entire complex, which was an odd idea to the city-raised man.

He wondered exactly how big his house in California would be. His favorite place in New York had been Central Park, and in California he found himself a nice little cottage in the woods near the observatory, close enough for him to walk to work but far enough away from the city’s smog that he could see the stars in the sky at night. He wouldn’t have to interact with neighbors or deal with the loud, grating city noises.

Shortly after showing Adam around the house, Gabi left to return a bag to that person named Charlie. Adam thought that that was the crazy-haired man, but he didn’t ask, because she was already driving away.

Luckily he’d managed to bring along one of his meals in his luggage, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to go shopping his first day in California. He pulled the macaroni and cheese, chicken, and broccoli from the mini-cooler they were sitting in, still semi-frozen, and set to heating them up. He took out his laptop, and set up _The Artist’s Studio_ to watch while he ate.

Routine. He had his routine. It may have been in another house, in another country, in another _continent,_ but his routine was still there, and it helped his mind settle far better than anything else short of being home right then. He savored the feeling of being grounded, his attitude so light that he even managed to laugh at certain parts of the show.

So of course it would be when he’s finally settled, finally calm in his routine, that it is ruined once more.

“Hello Adam.”

The sudden, unexpected voice _directly behind_ him had him jolting forward into the table, sending the little glass of water near his laptop tilting precariously, starting to tip over towards his laptop and Adam could only seem to watch in slow-motion as the liquid inside grew ever closer to the rim and– even quicker than the blue eyes could follow, there was suddenly a hand stopping the water, settling the glass back at equilibrium, an accident totally avoided.

“Th-Thank you, Mr. Nigel.”

“What the ever-loving fuck for, kid?”

“Stopping the glass from tipping and the water inside from getting on my laptop. If it had gotten inside, it might’ve–“

“I got it, I got it. Sure, you’re fucking welcome, kid.”

“My name is Adam Raki. I’m not a kid. I am twenty-seven, legally an adult.”

“Twenty-seven is still a fucking kid to me.”

Unsure how to continue the conversation from that topic, Adam chose to inquire as to the reason behind Mr. Nigel’s presence within the apartment.

“D-Do you live here, too, Mr. Nigel?”

“No, kid–”

My name is–”

“Fucking fine. No _Adam._ I just came by to fucking see Gabi.”

“O-Oh… she’s not here right now.”

A minute passed.

And another.

Realizing that the kid – _Adam_ – wouldn’t be taking his ‘go-on’ expression as a prompt to continue, Nigel rolled his eyes and released a heavy sigh, “Well, where the fuck is she?”

“Oh! She went to give someone named Charlie his or her bags back. I think it might be the crazy haired man, but it might also be a woman, as Charlie is a common nickname for women named Charlotte–”

Seeing that the end of this kid’s rant wasn’t going to come any time soon naturally, Nigel cut him off, “That’s fucking nice, Adam. When will she be back?”

“She did not give me an estimated return time.”

“Well fuck. Probably going to flirt with that fucking fish-faced cunt _Charlie_ some more.”

“I-I don’t understand. Fish-faced?”

“Yeah, the little fucker plays tuba, apparently. Bet since he does so much fucking blowing, he must be able to do that Dizzy Gillespie thing with his cheeks, blow them up like a fucking pufferfish.”

He blew his own cheeks up as demonstration and Adam couldn’t help but giggle, imagining his cheeks rounded and puffed out and finding the mental image humorous.

“While Dizzy Gillespie was a trumpet player rather than tuba, the idea remains quite funny, Mr. Nigel.”

The older man grinned. This kid wasn’t half bad. Peculiar as fucking hell, but he had a good sense of humor, at least. Nigel sat down in the chair beside Adam, making himself comfortable.

“Well Adam, I’ve got quite a bit of time to kill,” he’d already warned the high-as-fuck cunt in that dingy bathroom, must’ve just missed his darling Gabi, and though he loved her, he knew she was a tease. She was probably out in the city right now flirting and playing with the little fucker. He had men watching them, and he’d be there to rough the American trash up a bit more once they gone separate ways for the night (God fucking help them if she invites _him_ home, too). But for now… he’d learn a bit more about Gabi’s other American stray.

“Tell me Adam, what brings you to this cozy little corner of hell?”

“Hell?”

“Bucharest, kid. Why the fuck are you in Bucharest?”

Adam considered telling Nigel his name again, but by this point the other man was most likely going to continue calling him 'kid', “W-Well, it was a mistake at the airport in New York. I-I was supposed to fly to the airport in California, where I would move into my new home in the forest and make satellite microchips for the observatory there. B-But the traffic made Harlan late, and I was rushed and the man at the front directed me to the wrong gate.”

“And you were actually _fucking let through_?”

“Y-Yes. I wasn’t aware that I was on a plane to Bucharest until the plane had landed and I saw the sign.”

“How the fuck did you not realize sooner?! Couldn’t you fucking hear any mention of it around you?”

“Well… no. Once I’d taken my seat, I had immediately put on my headphones and began watching a pre-downloaded video about black holes. I had felt an overload approaching because I hadn’t been given any time to say goodbye to Harlan or adjust to leaving New York for the first time ever and I hadn’t wanted to make any trouble for the flight attendants, whom I doubt knew how to correctly handle an Aspie having an overload.”

“What the fuck is an Aspie? Is it some kind of fucking disease?”

“No, Asperger’s Syndrome is a high-functioning form of autism. I can take care of myself and live quite normally, but I need a routine to follow to cope well. I also have a hard time understanding people most of the time, usually when they are using sarcasm, metaphors, expressions, or generally anything but straightforward dialogue. Expressed emotions are very hard for me to understand as I have what is known as mind-blindness. I cannot easily guess what you are thinking or feeling given the expression on your face or in your tone, nor can I often empathize with others. I had to work to learn how to read basic emotions like anger, sadness, happiness, etcetera; when I was younger, I would assume that what I felt, so would others. For example, if I were hungry, I would have assumed that you were hungry as well.”

“Well _fuck._ So, wait; everything you hear, you fucking take literally?”

“Yes. It can be dangerous for an Aspie sometimes, because generally all Aspies are always honest.”

“So, you’ve never told a lie?”

“Never.”

_“Everyone_ fucking lies, Adam.”

“I don’t. I don’t understand the concept of lying. And I _hate_ liars. If someone lies to me and I cannot tell that they have done so, how can I be sure that they will not do it again? How can I trust them to tell me the truth when I know they have already lied to me once?”

_“Shit_ kid. Okay. So you’re an Aspie. You were on the fucking plane about to have a fucking– _what?_ A panic attack?”

“An overload. It is very much like a panic attack in that the current environment or elements within it become too much to handle and I shut down. Some Aspies can have heightened sensitivity; I have a heightened sense of touch and during overloads I also don’t like too much light or sound. Sometimes I can’t stand the slightest touch and sometimes all I want is to be held or buried under my weighted blanket. What you saw at the opera house was an overload, though I had tried my best to keep it contained. In my scattered, panicked mindset, I had thought that good behavior would allow me to be able to return home sooner. But I remember realizing that I don't technically have a home at the current moment, so I had to resort to thinking of home as nothing more than this at the time. My macaroni and cheese, chicken, and broccoli while watching _The Actor’s Studio_. Surprisingly, it worked, no matter how slightly.”

“Part of your routine?”

“Yes.”

“So… I made you have an overload?”

“Not necessarily you alone, Mr. Nigel. The overload was long overdue, what with all that had happened to me before that moment, but the stress of the situation with you and Miss Gabi is what finally tipped it over.”

“I remember you saying something about ‘no touching’, before… So what the fuck happened after you landed at the airport?”

“I remember being very scared and panicked, and the guards had at first been rough with me like they had with the crazy-haired man, because the old man he’d been sitting next to had died during the flight I think. B-But then they opened my wallet and saw my Autism Alert Card and then they were careful and calm when talking to me. They asked me to explain what was wrong and I told them about the mishap. I was told to sit and wait and half an hour later I was informed that there would be a flight directly to California and that I would have a seat on it in next Sunday. B-But until then, they didn’t know what to do with me. Miss Gabi heard and she offered to let me stay with her. I accepted her offer, but she must’ve noticed that I was still scared because she asked me if I liked music and when I said yes, she put me in a taxi and sent me to the opera house. I was told to give a note to a pain-faced man and when I did, he put me up in an opera box and then left. I fell asleep and woke up to the opera playing and when I went to find Miss Gabi I ran into you.”

A quiet beep from his burner phone alerted Nigel to a message from one of his lackeys: Gabi was parting ways with Charlie, went down into the subway by– _oh,_ he growled. He couldn’t fucking _believe_ this shit. The café where she’d saved him with her music? This was a new low, even for her.

Adam, hearing the noise jumped slightly, “N-Nigel? Did I say something wrong?”

Realizing that the kid was still next to him, Nigel pushed down his aggression, not to hide it of course, given what Adam was saying, he wouldn’t notice it – or maybe he would; he’d said he could read anger. But Nigel calmed himself down for his own sake, to remind himself that he didn’t have any problems with this American, that it was the _other,_ dirtier one that was after his Gabi. This one was just a little lamb lost in a city of wolves. And even being the biggest, baddest wolf among them, Nigel wasn’t going to hurt him any more than he already had.

“No, Adam, you didn’t say or do anything wrong. I’m fucking angry about something someone told me over the phone, something that means that I have to leave now. But I would like to get to know you better, and to show you that I’m fucking sorry for scaring you at the Opera House. Would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow, Adam?”

Seeing the small, delighted smile spreading across the boy’s face was like a ray of damn _sunshine,_ “Yes, Nigel. I would like to have lunch with you tomorrow,” here he paused, and his brows scrunched a little, “I must tell you though that I can only eat certain foods with certain textures.”

“Like these?”

Nigel gestured to the now cold plate of food; Adam would have to reheat it once Nigel left.

“Yes.”

“Then I will find a place that serves mac n’ cheese, chicken, and broccoli.”

“Thank you for understanding, Nigel.”

“Of course, if it makes you comfortable to eat this, why wouldn’t I?”

Adam couldn’t help but think back to Beth, who thought he couldn’t read the openly irritated expression on her face or hear her loud sighs every time he asked for the same thing no matter where they went or got overwhelmed when the restaurant didn’t serve it, “Some people don’t like that I can’t eat variety.”

“Fuck them, Adam.”

“Fuck… them?”

Nigel leaned in with a grin, “Fuck ‘em."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy this extra long chapter. The next one might take a while because I don't have it written yet :/


	4. Nigel's Super Badass name!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been decided (quite unanimously)!

The winner is:

The Beast of Bucharest

 

 

Honorable mentions! Thanks guys, I loved seeing all of your comments, which is why I can't bring myself to delete this chapter (but I need to add a new one so that you can see it's been updated!))

{Cello (in honor of Gabi and making his victims play like a cello after he's done with him)

Champion (the meaning of his name Nigel in Irish roots)

Cloud (Evolution of the Scandinavian Njal, which originated from the Irish Niall, a name derived from the Gaelic nÃ©all (cloud) or niadh (champion). The Scandinavians took the name to Normandy, where it was Latinized as Nigellus. The Normans then introduced the name to England, where it became Nigel)} (from [ **SB01** )](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SB01/pseuds/SB01)

{Hound (in hunting) - Caine de Vanatoare (Cause he's a bit like a dog with a bone, and he hunts people down.)} (from [**Ithral** )](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithral/pseuds/Ithral)

{Nigel lycaon (..the wolf of Romania))} (from  **[ChildOfKindlyWest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChildOfKindlyWest/pseuds/ChildOfKindlyWest)** ) 

 


	5. Thumb in my anus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nigel thinks about where to take Adam while he hunts down Charlie, them he goes to pick him up the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that this is coming late, but I wanted the chapter to be the best it can be rather than just typing out some half-assed stuff. I hope that's OK with you guys...

Nigel walked away from Gabi’s house trying to settle his face into a no-bullshit expression, but every time he got close he remembered having to try to explain to the kid: “No, Adam, don’t literally fuck them. It’s a fucking expression. It means to just ignore them,” and then seeing Adam’s relief at not having to have sex with every asshole that had a problem with him and then he just broke back down into guffawing laughter all over again. God, that kid was something else.

In the best fucking way.

Nigel had never before crossed paths with anyone like Adam Raki, never even known that people like him _existed,_ but was he glad they had met. He was like a splash of bright color to Nigel’s world of shadows and blood, and the Romanian had every intention of enjoying his time with the boy before Adam flew back to the States. Had he been younger, Nigel wouldn’t have wasted a second on the curious little thing, too blinded by drugs and alcohol and where his next hit was coming from (either fix or target). Now though… well, he liked to think that he’s mellowed a bit.

Regardless, he had a fuckboy American to instill a healthy fear of himself in. As he tracked down Cuntyman from where his men had last seen him he thought about where to take Adam… maybe Măceş, a little diner on the outer edges of Bucharest, covered in dog-roses. It was owned and occupied by an old couple and their grandson. Nicolae was a good kid, if a bit of a little shit when he was younger… well, the boy was still a shit at 20, but now he was actually looking forward to inheriting the café. The old couple, Iudita and Constantin, were good people too, though a little hard of hearing now; they always let him stay the night in the back room of the restaurant whenever he’d somehow manage to stumble out there blackout drunk or high off of his ass.

The café was a nice place with a quiet, warm atmosphere and even better food; hell, he used to take Gabi there all of the time. It was as close to her meeting the parents as they could get, what with his father never even sticking around for the pregnancy and mama overdosing when he was nine. But that was neither here nor there, old Iudita was a wonderful cook and Nigel was sure that she could whip up some mac n cheese with chicken and broccoli…

* * *

_There_ that piece of shit was, running home like some love-drunk idiot; Nigel wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp. But it was still too soon; he didn’t have the tape and he knew that if he pushed his darling Gabi too far, she’d use the exact same bargaining chip that her father had to chase him out of Romania once more.

Moving to the nearest parked car ahead of him, he swiftly broke into it without setting off the alarm and slid into the driver’s seat. It only took a few practiced twists of his fingers to hotwire the car, which he then didn’t hesitate to slam straight into the passing fucker and send him sprawling on the pavement. There we go, just a concussion, maybe a few bruised organs, but the rat wasn’t going to kick the bucket and that was the most that could be asked of Nigel at this point. It was taking all that he had as it was, not to set one foot on Countryman’s head and just keep on applying pressure until it split with a sharp _crack_ and blood seeped through the crevices. Or maybe his skull was so full of hot air and nothingness that it would just _pop_ instead.

“Remember Charlie, it could all turn to blood in the blink of an eye.”

He had to force himself to leave before he did worse. Nigel heavily considered getting utterly wasted, going on a killing spree and putting all of the fucks in line that had decided to creep out of their little shitholes while he was gone, but in the end decided against it. Again, he had to lie low for now until the police had no conceivable evidence against him. But once he got his hands on that tape… well, then it really would all turn to blood.

He ended up crashing in one of the many shitty apartments that Darko had set up for his men, so tired from the rush back into Bucharest and everything that had followed that he’d almost fallen asleep the second he collapsed on the old mattress in the back room. Fuck he was getting old.

As he laid there, surrounded by stains and smells that he knew better than to think about, Nigel’s found himself looking forward to the next day and not entirely because of Gabi’s call. His last thought was of elusive blue eyes.

* * *

The next day, Nigel showed up at Gabi’s home at 10:30 on the dot. He’d realized that he and Adam hadn’t agreed on a meeting time, so he figured that early was probably the best way to go. Plus, the kid was probably pretty particular about when he ate.

Walking up to the front door, he noticed that Gabi’s car was not in the driveway and subconsciously ground his teeth at the fact that she still hadn’t called him. He was getting sick of her avoiding him; he’d waited long enough for that son of a bitch Viktor to kick the bucket, he had every right to see his fucking wife and then she goes and pulls this type of shit.

 _No, no,_ he reminded himself, deliberately unclenching his jaw, _she still has until the end of the day_. She was probably just at a rehearsal at the Opera House.

There was little chance of her being with _Charlie;_ the greasy little fuck had just gotten the piss scared out of him at one of Darko’s clubs. Nigel’s old friend had called him not long ago, telling him about the three sacks of shit that he’d just finished dealing with. One of them had had the balls to shoot his load in the middle of a fucking show but didn’t have the cash to pay for it. It was a regular enough occurrence at any club, but Darko had been having a slow night so he’d figured he would amuse himself with intimidating a few lousy fucks shitless.

But when one pig in particular had kept glancing at one of the pictures on Darko’s wall and being shamefully obvious about it, Darko took note. He liked to keep a picture of his oldest partner on the wall of his reception room; it had a subtle way of revealing information on the clients that passed through. Everyone in the business knew of Nigel and his ruthless reputation, his short temper and the vicious beatings he could dole out. But this worked to Darko’s favor. If a man (or woman, Nigel had no scruples) came in and flinched at the sight of the _Beast of Bucharest_ … well, then Darko knew that they weren’t the run-of-the-mill pieces of shit which populated his clubs. Those people were dealt with… differently; so he called Nigel.

It had been… refreshing to be able to speak with his old friend again, Nigel had to admit. But as fun as Darko could get with the right cocktail of drugs, alcohol, and women, he was a tightass when it came to business. Nigel was planning on getting that goddamn tape which forced him to leave Romania in the first place… he’d just wanted to get back with his wife first. But now that Darko knew that he was back, he’d made him swear to start looking for that fucking tape. And he would… after Gabi called him.

No one was answering the door; where the hell was the kid? Taking a shit? Nigel rang the doorbell another five times before giving up with a groan and moving to find the hidden spare key. Unfortunately, she’d moved it since he’d left and it took an upturned welcome mat, five rocks, and three potted plants before he found it hidden along the door frame. Fucking typical.

But what really took the fucking cake was seeing Adam curled up in a ball just inside the entryway upon opening the door, “Are you _fucking_ kidding me, Adam?! What the _shit?_ Here I am, waiting outside like some jackass and you’re just sitting in here with your thumb up your fucking ass?! What the fuck is _wrong_ with–” He paused in his tearing into the kid when he saw the full-body flinch. It couldn’t have been a reaction to his admittedly aggressive looming over the kid; Adam hadn’t mentioned super-slowed reflexes as a symptom of Asperger’s. No, the kid had tensed up at his words, or rather, one word in particular: _wrong._

“I-I’m so-sorry, Nigel,” Adam’s voice wobbled, barely a whisper; Nigel felt his heart squeeze painfully at the sound. Well fuck, the kid keeps him waiting outside for fifteen minutes and still manages to make _Nigel_ feel like the piece of shit.

“Hey, hey – no, Adam. It’s okay,” he crouched down in front of the kid, cursing at himself when he saw tears pooling in the corners of those eyes which refused to meet his own, _“Fuck_ Adam, don’t cry, I’m not mad, I promise, okay?”

“Yes you are!” Adam shouted, making Nigel jump. The tears began falling, “Your actions and words suggested a great deal of agitation and it was my fault be-because I didn’t let you in! I-I didn’t have my th-thumb in my anus, b-but I didn’t know if it was al-alright to allow others into Miss Gabi’s home! I’m so sorr-ry Nigel!”

Despite the misunderstanding and Adam’s delicate state, Nigel couldn’t help but snort at the thumb bit, “Adam, darling, listen to me. I _was_ angry, I will admit. But look at me right now, listen to my fucking tone. Do I seem angry anymore?”

Blue eyes glanced at him up and down, “N-No...”

“No. See? Right now, I’m just worried about you and fucking sorry for upsetting you.”

“B-But it’s _my_ fault! I-I’m so _stupid! Stupid Adam!_ ”

Adam lifted his fists to his head, about to begin beating it in frustration because _why couldn’t he just be normal?! Why did he have to do even something as simple as answering the door wrong?!_ But then there were two large, warm, calloused hands wrapping around his wrists and lowering them, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the undersides.

“Adam you are _not_ stupid. I’ve only known you for a day–”

“Sixteen hours.”

“I’ve only know you for sixteen hours and I know you’re not fucking stupid, kid.”

“H- _How?_ ”

“Because I don’t like idiots.”

That stopped Adam short, his eyes flickering up to Nigel’s red ones and away so quickly that the older man couldn’t be sure that it had even happened.

“… you like me?”

It was said so quietly, so hopefully that Nigel had no way of stopping the smile from forming on his face, “Of fucking course I do; I’m taking you to lunch, aren’t I?”

“Y-Yes you are!”

With that, Adam had perked right up, wiping away the tears and smiling back, not just mirroring Nigel’s, but his own smile. Nigel found himself thinking that it was beautiful, for a man.

Realizing the strange path his thoughts were taking, he shook it off and opened the door for Adam to walk out, “Really though, Adam. It was probably for the best that you didn’t answer the door. There are some fucking crazies out there, knocking around people’s doors.”

“A-Are you one of the fu-fucking crazies, Nigel?”

There was something different in Adam’s voice, so after locking the front door behind him, he turned to look at the kid and found an all new expression on his face that Nigel hadn’t seen yet. It was a bashful playfulness and managed to pull a surprised laugh from Nigel, “Adam, was that a joke?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you guys liked it! And sorry about the Cuntyman pun. I am ashamed... but I feel like Nigel might actually secretly love dad puns too...

**Author's Note:**

> Like it? Hate it? Should I up the rating for the cursing?


End file.
